Baratheon Brothers
by PartyInTheNorth
Summary: Gendry hadn't thought becoming a legitimate Baratheon would mean overzealous attention from his father and uncles, but with Arya and her family due to arrive any minute, can he put up with them?
1. Chapter 1 Renly

Gendry hadn't thought becoming a legitimate Baratheon would mean this. He was stood in his smallclothes with a man measuring around his waist, Lord Renly watching the fitting from the window seat.

'I think navy would suit him well,' said Renly to the tailor, smiling, 'It would bring out his eyes.'

Gendry sighed as they made him try yet another tunic on. He had hoped to get some training in before the banquet that evening but it was clear that Renly and his tailor were in no hurry.

Renly got up to examine him, pulling the fabric around his shoulders. 'A little more fitted at the shoulders, I think.'

Gendry lifted off the tunic and, whilst the tailor hurried off to change something, Renly finally spoke directly to him for the first time since the fitting had begun.

'Do you know what you're doing this evening, Gendry?' he asked, looking a little concerned.

'Umm… The Starks are coming to dinner?' Gendry answered. He hated how stupid he sounded. He knew so little about courtly life that Renly had had to teach him everything, and now if just wanted to be the easy-going young Lord's equal and friend. It was humiliating to have to be treated like a child by someone only a few years older than him, uncle or not. He wondered, suddenly, if that was how Arya felt, when they were on the road together. He was always trying to protect her, and treating her like a piece of china, even though he knew she was steel at heart.

'No, I meant your manners. When they arrive, what will you do?' continued Renly, smirking.

'Umm…' Gendry raced to think of the answer before Renly cut him off. Finally, he surrendered and just said what he would do instinctively. 'I'll run to Arya and take her in my arms.'

Renly laughed, his eyes light. 'That's very sweet,' he said, knowing that Gendry missed the younger Stark daughter more than words could describe. She had gone North to see her family and they had only arrived back in King's Landing that morning. It killed him that he wouldn't see her until the evening, and not alone until… Well, who knew when? Renly spoke again. 'However, that isn't the correct etiquette.' Renly went on to explain everything Gendry needed to do, but now Gendry's head was filled with Arya and he wasn't listening.

**A/N: Hope you enjoyed! The next chapter will be up soon. Each chapter centres on a different Baratheon Brother- but there are four in total (hmmmm?). This was inspired by a prompt by Princess-Of-Winterfell on tumblr.**


	2. Chapter 2 Stannis

**A/N and now we have some Stannis fun, enjoy!**

**This time there's proper Gendrya, I promise. And even MORE in the next chapter!**

The tailor and Lord Renly finished with him by 3 o'clock and Gendry seized the opportunity to train a little before he had to get ready for the banquet. He had no doubts that Arya would want to fight him tomorrow, and he thought he'd better get some practice in so that she didn't beat him again. He still got embarrassed over that.

He was suddenly drawn into the memory of the day. It was before she had gone North, when King Robert was still trying to sort his legitimisation and get rid of Cersei Lannister and her beastly children. They'd been training all morning, and, as usual, she challenged him to a duel. They were almost equally matched with a sword, Gendry's brute force made up for by her swiftness, but somehow that day she had gained the advantage and managed to back him into a corner. He parried her blows, but they were too quick, and she knocked him to the ground. His last defense- impulsive as it was- was grasping her tunic and bringing her down with him. She landed on top of him, her legs straddling his hips and her hands on his chest. He had lost his sword in the melee but she still held hers, yet instead of using it, she leant down and kissed him on the lips.

It wasn't their first kiss, but it was the first one that was given with the knowledge that they could be together. Robert Baratheon had announced that Gendry was to be legitimised and, although they hadn't asked, Gendry saw no reason why he would deny the marriage of his son to the daughter of his best friend.

The memory fell away as he was struck in the chest with the flat edge of his opponent's sword.

'Yield,' he said, distracted.

'Is your mind elsewhere, Gendry?' called a strong, deep voice across the courtyard. Gendry turned to see his uncle Stannis, serious-faced and smartly dressed, perhaps in preparation for the banquet. Gendry tried very hard not to sigh. Was he ever going to get away from his uncles today?

'I was just trying to get my head around Lord Renly's instructions for tonight,' he lied, because daydreaming about Arya was not a very good excuse for Stannis Baratheon.

Stannis nodded approvingly, and took up a sword, weighting it in his hands carefully.

'There'll be plenty of time for all that socialising later,' said Stannis. He raised the sword to point it at Gendry and his nephew steeled. 'Now, shall we practice?'

'If you wish, uncle,' answered Gendry, turning his sword in his hand.

They fought, quite evenly matched, for a few minutes until finally Gendry took the advantage, and Stannis, pressed down on the floor, yielded.

Gendry gave his uncle a hand up and the older man slapped him on the shoulder. 'Well fought, Gendry,' he praised, and then studied his nephew's face. Gendry wondered what he was looking for: marks of his father- well, there weren't any as far as Gendry could see. He did bear a fair resemblance to Renly, though, which marked him quite obviously a Baratheon. He didn't feel that he shared the personality of any of his uncles, though, and he wasn't fond of the Baratheon words, either. _Ours Is The Fury_, he thought, didn't really sum him up. Gendry didn't have so much fury in him, particularly not when Arya was around, and he wasn't a very vengeful person. He especially disliked the inclusion of his family in that fury, that it wasn't just _his_ fury but _ours_. Their wars were not his.

Stannis continued, 'I'm very proud of you, Gendry,' he smiled, 'You're a better man than your father.'

Although Arya agreed, Gendry took a little offence at that dismissal of his father. He might be a rotten drunk, but Robert Baratheon was _his_ rotten drunk.

'He's not a bad man,' said Gendry, slightly tersely.

'No, no,' agreed Stannis, shaking his head, 'But I hope you will be a more honourable knight, Gendry, and will not… father so many bastards,' he gave a conciliatory smile, 'Though some of his bastards have turned out fine men indeed.'


	3. Chapter 3 Robert

**A/N: And, part three, Robert! This is based on Princess-Of-Winterfell's prompt from tumblr and here you go, plenty of Gendrya because I ship them more than the Earth and the Sun. Though probably in a different way, as I don't particularly want the Earth and the Sun getting too close.**

Finally the hour came, and the banquet began. In the throne room, King Robert sat on the Iron Throne, Renly and the lovely Margaery Tyrell on his right and Stannis alone on his left- his wife and daughter back at Dragonstone still.

Gendry stood on a diagonal before his father's throne, his impatience showing with the shuffling of his feet. He knew he was acting childishly but he really couldn't stay still. He was absolutely desperate to see Arya, and it was difficult to hide it.

Finally, the wide doors opened and the courtiers stood as the Starks strided in. Ned walked at their head with Catelyn close by his side and Robb standing proud at his right hand. Gendry moved his head like a bird, trying to glimpse the row behind them. He saw Sansa first, her long auburn hair braided elaborately and her slender figure swathed in soft pink silk. Rickon and Bran were too tiny to see just yet, but finally he spotted her, down at Sansa's hip, an imp in a grey, fur-trimmed dress, despite the warm autumnal evening. Her hair was still short and choppy and his heart leapt when he noticed her pushing up on her tiptoes to scan the court for him. Their eyes locked, and a broad grin spread across her cheeks.

Gendry focused all his effort on keeping his feet still whilst he waited for the necessary greetings to take place. Finally he gave in and stepped up to Arya, lifting her hand in his and kissing her fingers. He held them there longer than he was supposed to but he was savouring the electric touch of his lips to her ragged skin.

His restraint went to waste, however, as she sprang forward to wrap her arms in a tight noose around his waist. He gripped her just as tightly, his head leaning down to rest his chin on the crown of her head, eyes shut.

'I missed you,' she said, just loud enough for him to hear.

'I was dead without you,' he answered, surprised to find that he wasn't exaggerating, even in the slightest.

He suddenly became aware that a worried hush had descended over the throne room, which was only broken by King Robert's booming laugh. Arya lifted her head and smiled at Gendry, and then he half-released her, turning to his father but keeping an arm about her waist. He wasn't ready to let go of her just yet.

'That's my boy, Ned!' Robert bellowed, slapping his friend on the back, 'Isn't he a strapping young thing?'

'He seems a good lad,' replied Ned Stark cautiously. He didn't sound convinced, and Gendry shyly let go of Arya. He had not spoken to Ned Stark since the day the old King's Hand had come to his forge and asked him about his mother, and he wasn't sure the honourable man would take too kindly to his intimacy with his youngest daughter.

'A good lad?' scoffed King Robert, and Gendry felt himself blushing as Arya threw her furious eyes on him and took his hand in hers, 'He's a great man! Unrivalled at his swordplay-'

'Thanks to Stannis,' cut in Renly, chuckling.

'Yes, yes,' grumbled Robert, too drunk to understand Renly's sarcasm, 'But, truly, Gendry, my son, there is no better blacksmith in all the seven kingdoms and it is an honour to finally be able to call you my son!'

The court cheered, and raised a toast, and then the Starks and the Baratheons gathered around the long dining tables in the hall. Gendry sat beside his father, opposite Arya, who was beside her father too. He kept stealing jealous glances at her, drinking in the sight of her polite, half-smile and the wisps of wood-brown hair dancing in her eyes.

She looked up occasionally, and their eyes locked together. He could feel the fire behind her eyes, matching his, the desperation to just hold each other and fight and be the same furious entity that they used to be.

'Is there a new wife on the cards, Robert?' asked Lady Catelyn, as Gendry tuned back into the conversation- which, much to his embarrassment, had mainly been Robert singing his son's praises.

'Not for me, I think, Cat,' his father replied, smiling good-naturedly, 'But maybe for Gendry?'

Gendry blushed furious purple and Arya snickered under her breath.

He was about to come out with a passive answer when Robert just carried on speaking, his voice louder than anyone else in the room's.

'I tell you, Ned,' he was musing, 'I will never love another woman as much as your sister. Lyanna was the best woman I ever knew.'

'She was…' Ned Stark swallowed, clenching his jaw, 'She was a good girl.'

'Oh, she was more than that,' continued Robert, tearing up, 'She was braver than any woman, and wild as the Winterfell wind, and so beautiful even the trees turned to look at her.'

Gendry peered up through his eyelashes at Arya. He couldn't have described her better himself, he thought, smiling slightly.

Later, once dinner was over, he retired to his chambers, hoping to make it very obvious where they were to everyone in the great hall. He didn't expect to sleep, and he didn't really know what to do with himself, so he just sat, gazing out of the window at the setting sun over King's Landing. He had requested this view especially, because he could, if he squinted, see across to the sea.

'You're quite the Baratheon favourite, aren't you?' said a laughing girl behind him. She had snuck in completely silently, of course, and there she was, half an inch behind him, so close he could smell her- the smell of winter, of course.

'They drive me insane,' he groaned, as her icy cold hands slipped around his waist and slivered up the inside of his shirt. He bent his head forward, closing his eyes against the wave of intense pleasure. 'Robert never shuts up, and Stannis just wants to impose his morals on me, and Renly made me wear these itchy clothes…'

He sighed heavily, and she side-stepped him to stand in front of him. 'Let's get you out of these itchy clothes then,' she whispered. Her slender fingers worked at his buttons, easing him out of the shirt, and he knew he should stop her, but he really couldn't think of anything worse than stopping her. Soon he was bare-chested, the cool night air wisping in through the window and dancing on his skin where she wasn't heating it up.

'Poor, poor Gendry, being spoilt by the King,' she laughed, planting hot, sticky kisses up in a line from his belly button.

'No,' he breathed, bringing her face up and cupping her cheek in his hand, 'I just… I want life to be easier, like the old times.'

'When was our life easier?' she asked, and his heart flipped over at her use of 'our'. 'When we were on the run, our lives at risk, liable to be murdered in our sleep any night? We're the ones in control now.'

He smiled at her, this volatile, wild little waif who had grown into a forest nymph with fire in her heart and frost in her soul.

'This is a conversation, stupid, you're supposed to reply,' she reprimanded, mock-seriously, and he replied simply by diving down and kissing her. Her fingers curled in fists against his chest and her hot mouth smothered his, and he was home.


	4. Chapter 4 Gendry

**A/N: Ok I know Gendry's not a Baratheon brother as such, but he's a Baratheon and he does have siblings so… This is the epilogue: gratuitous Gendrya, fluff and a happy ending. **

Two nights later, they were lying in his bed, just talking, and Gendry was on his favourite topic: complaining about his father and uncles.

'And why does Renly insist on spending so much money on me when there are starving people just down in Flea Bottom?' he groaned, Arya lying with her head in his lap as he fiddled with her hair.

'He's trying to be kind,' she consoled him, groaning inwardly. She couldn't understand why Gendry couldn't just take his family's compliments and be pleased. Maybe it was because her family had always been so close.

'And my father insists on telling me all about his whorehouse adventures,' he sighed, 'As if I want to hear about his sordid affairs.'

Arya rolled over, looking up at him.

'You don't sound like you anymore,' she said, so quietly that he was sure he had misheard her. But then he felt guilty. It was true. He was a different person now: courtly life had changed him, and he felt more and more like a spoilt lordling every day, and he remembered the good old days when she had been dressed as a boy and he had been a bastard blacksmith in rags. He wondered what their old selves would think of him now. It probably wouldn't be very kind.

'Oh, Arya,' he replied, stroking her cheek with light fingers, 'I'm sorry.'

'It's not your fault,' she murmured, looking deep into his eyes. They were the one part of him that was still the same, still blue as the ocean and honest as day.

'Things change,' he said softly, 'I've changed and so have you, but one thing hasn't: I love you.'

'You're stupid,' she laughed, and he grinned.

She smiled, glad to have spotted the old Gendry behind the facade of the prince. She dived up to his lips and kissed him solidly. He placed a hand on her back and held her close to him, supporting all of her weight in his arms as she pulled up to meet him. They rolled over and she lay on top of him, her legs curled between his knees. She hurriedly undid his buttons and he wriggled out of his shirt as she pressed kisses to his chest.

'What's this- oh, Gendry, you're covered in bruises!' she exclaimed and he sighed.

'I'd rather not talk about training with Stannis right now,' he said softly.

'This is nothing,' she said, smiling, planting her chin on his chest, 'Tomorrow I'll fight you, and then you'll be bruised.'

He couldn't help but laugh, and kiss her again, and his mind flicked back to that afternoon when he had gone to his father and Ned Stark, and asked very carefully if he could have their permission to marry Arya Stark.

Maybe life as a Baratheon wouldn't be so bad after all.


End file.
